


my such a sweet thing

by sultrygoblin



Category: Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23492935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sultrygoblin/pseuds/sultrygoblin
Summary: one shot - request- if everyone knows, you might as well take the last step
Relationships: Donny Donowitz/Original Female Character(s), Donny Donowitz/Reader
Kudos: 32





	my such a sweet thing

**Author's Note:**

> "Do you write about the Inglorious Bastards?? If so would you be able to write something about Donny Donowitz?? Like the reader is dating Donny and it’s their first time together? And donnys really sweet at first but gets a little animalistic near the end?? Thank you ?" - can be read as a companion piece to 'i'm see through'

The air was different after that night. It hadn’t stayed a secret for long, maybe 3 days. They’d made camp for the night and Wicki, or Wilhelm as you were wont to call him, sat down next to you with that smirk on his face. The smirk that meant he knew something you didn’t and he would be happy to divulge if you just admitted you wanted to know. Which you never did, and Wilhelm was far too much of a gentleman to simply keep it to himself. He was a Basterd, not a bastard. This time, though, this time was different. It had been naïve of you to think what had happened in that tiny room would stay there. You had just hoped for a little longer to prepare.

“Donowitz sure does like to run his mouth,” you grumbled, glaring across the at the man who was happily talking to Kagan, Zimmerman, and Sakowitz while Aldo, Utivich, and Ulmer took first watch.

Wilhelm chuckled, sitting slowly next to your as he lay his rifle on the ground, “He’s excited,” wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “Can’t promise in his position I’d act any better,” you hate the admission because it doesn’t give your anything to be angry about.

You shouldn’t be angry at all, if you were going by the general rules of being enamored with a man, but you had thrown the rules out when you’d taken the Lieutenant up on his offer, “We’re at war, you all realize that right?”

He nodded, squeezing your shoulder lightly, “Which means we have to bask in any ray of sunshine we find,” unable to help himself from laughing loudly at the glare you gave him, drawing the bawdy group’s attention to the pair, “You are determined to be angry about this no matter what.”

And Donny clearly didn’t like the Corporal’s arm around your shoulder, no matter how friendly and mostly brotherly it was meant to be, “Watch, he’s gonna come over here and yell because I’m his girl now,” rolling your eyes, watching him climb to his feet, eyes darkening, and you couldn’t help sending a pointed glance his way, one he was quick to ignore, “It’s like he’s throwing everything I worked for out the window because of some dumb idea of being a man,” he’s stalking over, Wilhelm’s arm disappeared quickly, leaning forward to grab his gun, “Really?”

“I’m not who you should be saying all this too,” hopping to his feet quickly, hoping to avoid more of a scene that was already preparing to take place, “You don’t give nearly enough credit, you know?” smirking down at your and moving quickly forward deeper into the woods, deciding to join first watch an inarguable reasoning.

He’s in front of you, much larger form your sitting position on the log. Eyes angry, mouth open, and you’d ready, ready for whatever possessive bullshit is going to come out of his mouth. Except nothing comes out. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, eyebrows furrowing seeming confused as well by the reaction before collapsing hard enough to make your end bounce just a bit. You bit down the urge to squeak at the unexpected and painful movement. He’s got his elbows on his knees, looking down as his large hands rub over his face and comb firmly through his shaggy hair.

“I shoulda kept my mouth shut,” it’s the exact opposite of what you expect to come out of his mouth and as such leaves you speechless, “I’m not exactly used to this.”

You imitate him, mouth opening and closing, though you have the benefit of him not looking at your as you do, “Used to what?” he’s apologizing, or as close as Donny Donowitz is ever going to get to apologizing and it wasn’t time to be a smart ass.

Which was very much a new feeling, “Broads back home, they like that kinda thing. I gotta keep reminding myself you’re not like the girls back home.”

“Oh?” raising your brows at him, never having put much thought into “the girls back home” beyond the colorful stories he’d let loose that felt more like boyish embellishment that complete fact.

“Well, you’re a lady,” you can’t help the scoff, screwing your nose up in disgust, which of course was when he decides to look up, “Not a lady just,” he exhaled, this was just as new to him as it was to your and you didn’t think you’d have been able to do any better.

“I’m not looking to give it away to the first guy who treats me nice,” you always tried to shy away from such assumptions, it wasn’t up to you to judge other women on their choices. Especially not when there was a war on. But it’s all he could mean.

“Or make a guy jealous just for fun,” he sighed, reaching out and pulling you close, thighs pressed together, arm around your shoulder sending shivers down your spine.

“Last thing I want. I didn’t come here to meet a guy, I came here to help my country, my friends-”

Before you could finish what he was sure would have been a heartfelt soliloquy, he’d pulled you tight against him and kissed you gently, nothing like the night before. It should matter they have an audience, you should be annoyed, except this isn’t some display of dominance. He isn’t trying to show off “his girl”, he’s just kissing you because he doesn’t know what else to do. Every day you do something to remind him that there’s a reason he wants you so bad, there’s aren’t many women out there like you and he’d been lucky enough to find one. You would never put up with his shit. If he had opened his mouth with jealous words, you would’ve yelled right back and stormed off. It’s why he hadn’t. And it’s why right now, you were straining to put more pressure into the kiss you normally might’ve ignored.

“Ya know,” he mumbles against your lips, hands gripping your hair, “I haven’t pitched my tent yet.”

“I’m offended,” you giggled, making to stand and finding a new grip on your thigh that kept your from moving, “Yeah, yeah,” you gasp instead, peering over his shoulder at the 3 privates who couldn’t seem to keep their eyes to themselves, “We have second watch.”

****

You’re making your way back to camp with Hirschberg when he opens his mouth, which normally might’ve gotten him a thump on the back of the head. He was not among your favorites of the men and they were seemingly always paired up because neither found the urge to talk to the other.

“He loves you, even if he doesn’t know it,” there’s a sincerity there that is strange to your ears and it no doubt strains him to say it, “He’s just an old fashion Boston boy.”

It’s probably the first time they’ve ever agreed, “You know, I think you might be right,” you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, “You got someone back home?”

He seems surprised by the question, “Alma,” but the tone he says your name is so swept away, they’re both happy you asked, “We’re tying the knot when I get home.”

You hummed, “Good for you Hirschberg, you deserve it.”

It’s the last of the words they speak. His mind twisted with thoughts of the woman back home and you trying to pull apart the word love like you could figure out it’s secret.

“You’re gonna hurt yourself thinking that hard,” comes Donny’s quiet voice in the dark, it wasn’t surprising that Stiglitz had made it back before their little duo, “You and Hirsch talk now?” his tone incredulous, he’s trying to keep worry away, especially when it comes to the private.

You shrug, feeling an arm snake around your ribs, “Donny,” it’s low, somewhere between warning and apprehensive, which turns out to be the right reaction.

His other arm is suddenly under your knees and in mere seconds you are off your feet with a squeal you barely manage to quiet with a flailing hand. He manages to bite back a chuckle but you can feel the rumble in his chest, there’s something calming about it. Or maybe it was just the feeling of being completely in his arms, almost entirely surrounded by his much – much- larger frame. It’s clear the only intent behind his question had been distraction. You had walked right into it. And you weren’t to upset about that. Donny’s tent is bigger than the single pup tents the other men had, but that wasn’t saying much. It had enough room to keep some boots beside an actual padded bedroll with a stuffed sleeping bag. Rank did have its privileges, no matter how small they seemed to be. Though right now it felt bigger than that -you are coming to realize, quite big- room where they had taken that step forward just a few nights ago. He finally has to admit defeat and drop you to climb in the tent, there’s no way he’s making it in with you in his arms. But they feel suddenly empty without you in them and while he’s perfectly happy with the view as you get on your hands and knees to make your way in, he’d much rather have you against him.

The night moves from being drenched in shadows to utterly pitch. Somehow it’s even more intimidating than that moonlit room. With sight taken from you, both of you were forced to rely on other senses, neither seeming to realize how dangerous that could become. Or how inevitably fast things would change in that darkened little tent. There’s the familiar sound of going to bed to catch a few hours of shuteye before they started back on again. Boots unlacing, jackets unzipped and pulled off, tossed in a neat pile near the head of the tent. He’s suspenders unsnap as you yanks a few buttons at the top of your large overshirt before yanking it over your head, leaving yourself in a stretched undershirt. They stack on top of the rest of the clothes.

The cold invades your arms and torso quickly, with a reminder that you hadn’t planned for this, expecting to be dozing in your hammock not too far from camp, where you would’ve stayed bundled up. And hadn’t required the torture device other women dared called alluring. Your nipples strained against the fabric in the cold, which might’ve been tolerable if Donny hadn’t chosen that moment to reach for you. Arm around your waist, hauling your onto his lap like you weighed nothing until you were pressed tight against him and your knees rested comfortably on either side of his hips. He had given you an entirely different reason for the reaction, you can’t help the shudder that flies through your body when they push against his warm chest. There’s no way he doesn’t know, there’s a twitch from his trousers that makes that fact perfectly clear, the sensation sending a new jolt through your body that made your hips buck ever so lightly unexpectedly.

“You can’t do that, doll,” his fingers dig into your ribs in a way that should be painful and is anything but, “We gotta sleep.”

“You’re right,” but neither shift to make themselves comfortable in bed.

Your hands search for him in the dark, exploring the hills and valleys of his well-muscled arms, down the sides of his torso, and back up until they rested around his neck. One hand tangled in locks damp from the condensation they were beginning to create or sweat, the other bracing against his back at the top of his spine. Everything about him was strong and warm, his body, his voice, the smell of him that overwhelmed you now. Your logical mind, the woman you still were outside this tent, said time for bed, just like Donny had. Only you seemed to believe it. For the first time, it was to be ignored. Tomorrow they moved forward on a small German camp. But Germans were still men with guns, and men with guns could kill either one of them. It suddenly seemed so unimportant.

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” you don’t recognize your own voice. It’s deeper, heavy with want for more of him, wanting to spend hours chasing these sensations.

His lips burn so good traveling, pressing to the curve of your neck, “You deserve better,” the darkness in his voice sending a surge of wetness to your panties.

There was no going back if you did this, “I just want you,” but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave the moment, not when you would be forced from it not long after sunrise.

You don’t expect his lips to peel back against your skin to allow his teeth to scrape against the sensitive flesh. Keeping your distracted as he maneuvered them onto the bedding, hovering over you as he nipped, sucked, and lapped at the spot that made your breath speed up and pulled quiet, indiscernible squeaks from your throat. It should be a sin that you’d have to stay quiet. The first chance they got he’d rectify the issue but not now. Now he was happy to explore the sensations of you in the dark. He’d never wanted to take it slow before, any other girl and he’d be just a slide from home by now. Your hands waste no time in sliding under the hem of his own dirtied undershirt, bunching around your wrists as you explored the entire expanse of his torso with your fingers. Until you had a hand running through the thicket of hair on his chest and the other trying to work the now offensive piece of fabric off his body.

There’s something about the way your fingers move, the tentative strokes, the way your thighs ever so slightly shake against his own between them, “You ever gone all the way before, doll?” it had never occurred to him that might be the case.

Not like he thought you were a slut, but you were a lady, with lady parts, and Aldo had your use them on more than one occasion all in the name of the cause, “There’s a lot I’ll do to scalp Nazi’s but I not that,” your breath heavy because you know the next question and you worry.

Maybe he’ll want to stop, “But before all that?” there was an age where being a virgin stopped being cute and you were teetering that line.

“I’ve fooled around before,” he’ll know if you are honest or not, it wouldn’t exactly be hard to figure out, “I just never found someone who,” you swallowed hard, the gulp echoing in his ears, your hands have started to shake, “Someone who seemed to get it.”

His heart speeds up, faster and faster till he’s sure it’s going to burst out of his chest, “I get it,” peppering kisses across your cheek, over the bridge of your nose, and across the other, “You sure you wanna do this? I wouldn’t blame ya for waiting.”

Your hand tugs at his shirt in the dark, finally managing to yank it from him. And more than enough to forget their reservations. He returned to that spot on your neck. He was almost done perfecting it and would not be deterred from the task. Sometimes losing track of his task by the way your body arched into his or your fingers drug along his heated flesh, the vibration of his groans against your neck did something to you that took the others many trials and errors to accomplish. He grins as the junction between your legs so gently pressed against his thigh grows from warm to pulsing an almost sweltering heat, even through the thick, military pants. His lips beginning a slow decent downwards when you gasped at the feel of him starting to harden against you.

The farther down he moves the less of him is offered to you, you find yourself gripping his hair with one hand, the other stretching and straining to trace newly exposed skin taken from your far too soon. He grips the loose collar of your undershirt, yanking it down, barely given a moment to take in the friction of it against your skin before he took a peaked nipple in his mouth. You hadn’t expected it, something you’d only read in dirty books and had become convinced it was a thing that men in the real world just didn’t do. But Donny did. It didn’t take a genius to make him feel good. Women were more complicated and every single one of them was different from the other. He wasn’t especially proud of how he’d come across the wealth of knowledge, though you probably wasn’t too proud of how you had gained yours, but it seemed as if every broad, every attempt had been leading up to making this perfect for your. Because it was only gonna be you from now on. The noises you make alone are enough reason.

You press down on his thigh, hoping between the strained muscles, the seam of your own trousers, and slowly dampening panties would provide some sort of relief. And it did for what felt like a second, making you want more. Of what? You were trying to figure that part out. Donny seemed to know though. You just had to embrace the dark and trust him. He wanted this to be as perfect as it could be given the circumstances, and there was no reason to doubt him. He pulls the fabric much as you did, yanking it over your breasts before giving his attention to the next bud, you did the rest. Eager to feel your skin against his again and disappointed to find him moving steadily downward. His kisses against your stomach made it quiver, you move to sit up, and is met by his hand spread wide and pressing your back against the bed, dragging it back down to tug at the far too many buttons on your pants, doing his best to keep your distracted with nips at the skin just above when it took longer than expected, he clamped his mouth over the jut of your hip. Your entire body surged upwards for a moment and fell back hard. He can’t name the noise that comes through your bitten lip, he just wants to hear it again. He finally gets the last button undone and a stronger urge takes over.

You didn’t know those pants could come off so fast, you always struggled with the tightness around the calves, but Donny found no struggle with them. Nothing had prepared you for what happened next, not even the books you’d kept tucked under a loose floor board under the bed or the few you’d found littered around Nazi bookshelves. You’d expected once he’d eased your now soaked underwear off he’d rise back up and press his lips against yours, explore yourself with his fingers. At first you didn’t register the sensation, just relished in what it did to you, your brain finally registering it only after he’d swiped his tongue across your swollen lips a second time. You managed to press your palm to your mouth just in time as an unmistakable moan rose in your throat that might not have been loud but would have certainly drawn attention.

He smirks, “This alright, doll?” unable to stop himself, he needs you to say something, anything.

You huff, “Tease,” even now you are trying to hold up the facade that they’re on equal footing. His lips ghost along the curve of your thigh, moving down not upwards, “Please don’t stop,” it’s rushed and exactly what he wants.

Donny hadn’t prepared for what exactly your confession would do for him. He felt like an animal, burying his tongue in your curls to lap at that bud Lieutenant had mentioned made a woman turn into something hungrier than a man and he’s sure his fingers have found once or twice. This is different, your body thrashes, he has to hold your thighs tight your you’d buck him off yourself. It’s a taste he’s never imagined, sour and sweet all at the same time, a fresh gush soaks his chin and he finds himself chasing where it comes from with his tongue, thumb pressing slow circles against your slick clit.

“Fuck,” it’s more a series of stilted breaths than a word, your fingers dip into his hair, trying to push him deeper, a familiar coil you’d only ever tightened yourself ready to spring, “Donny,” it’s the last phrase you manage before you are forced to bit the bent knuckle of your free hand. Turning what should be shrieks into quiet squeaks, one day, he promised himself.

He kept onward, swirling his tongue around your already sopping hole, nails digging into your skin, even in the darkness you can see stars explode in front of your eyes. It’s never felt like this, heels digging into the sleeping bag you are sure must be damp from a combination of your juices and his saliva. Soon soaked by the unexpected gush of whatever Donny had managed to do to you. It’s about there he’d lost all control. Ripping at his belt as he moved up your body, your legs hooked around him, desperately pressing wet curls against his pelvis as he worked his pants and briefs down. It was the longest it had ever taken, and he almost hated himself for it, if only because he didn’t quite remember sliding inside you, only that he had. Only other first he’d been was Zissa’s, who’d been pretty dramatic about the pain it caused but he was pretty sure the ignoring you after is what had done it. He’d heard a few other girls talk about it he wished he could see you, or he’d been paying attention-

“If you don’t move, I’m going to lose my fucking mind Donowitz,” you hissed, trying to roll your body against his even as his hips pinned yours to the ground.

Whatever he’d done had seemed more overwhelming than any pain he might’ve caused, he was lost in you. It was that kind of feeling he always thought was just something you say. But it really felt like they were one person, moving synched in a way he couldn’t imagine two people could. There wasn’t much freedom in the tent, yards away from the others, but they took what they could from it. Slow, deliberate thrusts that sent you softly over the edge again and again, until you were sure you couldn’t anymore and he’d prove your wrong every time. He’s rambling against your neck, your ear, when he isn’t swallowing moans he’d much rather hear. About what comes after, he’s gonna take your home, he’s gonna marry you, it’s not the kind of pillow talk you ever expected to enjoy but it fogs your mind and you’re starting to wonder how much longer you can keep yourself on this planet. Your body is exhausted, too overstimulated to tense a muscle, your mine is his entirely. You are going to regret how little sleep you were going to get and how filled your senses were going to be of him, but all you felt is a drowsy sense of need. As if he could rock you to sleep with each gentle orgasm that washed over your body.

You don’t want to miss his end though, craving it in a strange primal way you were beginning to understand but still couldn’t predict. You drag his lips back to yours, they’re swollen, they ache, and you are still dying to feel it all. Gasping when he rolled his hips, never moving from inside you but some hitting a place inside he hadn’t found when you were sure he’d discovered them all. A second time and a third, this tumble isn’t gentle, your muscles burn as they tense, your orgasm coming from somewhere deep down that you didn’t even know existed. He stutters against you, all but collapsing on top of you as the final crest stole the air from his lungs. You just clings to him, gasping and panting into his neck.

Neither of you move til both your breaths had begun to even, he rolls off you and you felt your combination of juices gush out of you, there was no saving the sleeping bag. It didn’t matter, curling yourself into his the heat of his slick skin. Barely a few moments pass when you can feel your eyes droop, you are almost asleep.

But you are sure he says he loves you and you manage to mumble it back before you finally drifted off this Earth.


End file.
